Picking berries used to be so much fun when I was a little girl. We would head out early in the morning before the sun got too warm armed with empty ice cream pails. Wearing our coolest clothes and for Mom and me a thin homemade bandanna tied in the back under our hair bun instead of our regular coverings.
I didn't mind all the scratches we got from the thorns on the raspberry and blackberry bushes. Going berry picking was much too special to be concerned about that. As we picked Mom would tell stories from when she was a little girl or we would all sing while we picked.
When our pails were full we would head home to make pie, cobbler, jams, and a special canned pudding to enjoy during the winter.
We have several berry plants behind the house and I was keeping an eye on the berries hoping to get them before the birds do once they ripen.
Turns out I didn't need to worry about the birds. Last week one morning I heard this strange sound and when I went to investigate I found Midnight, a heifer Sailor made his pet leaning over the fence and taking her great big tongue and stripping the berries and leaves off those plants. By the time she got done there wasn't much left of the berry bushes.